


unapologetic with you tonight (nothing to hide)

by blackrose1002, BlackVultures



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Facial Shaving, First Kiss, First Time, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Shaving, Strength Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 02:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose1002/pseuds/blackrose1002, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVultures/pseuds/BlackVultures
Summary: Mac's hair was in his face and when he raked it out of the way he noticed Jack was staring at him… because he was shirtless? No, that couldn’t be right—they’d seen each other naked countless times. “You okay?”“What? Yeah, of course,” Jack said, but there was something off about the words, like he’d had to force them out. He stepped in closer and pulled the straight razor out of his back pocket. It was an antique thing, with real ivory handles, passed down to Jack from his old man; he’d told Mac the story about it one time when they were drunk off their asses in Cancun (that trip wasn’t as fun as it sounded). “Tilt your head up a little.”Mac’s eyes flicked to the blade, glinting under the bathroom lights, and he knew like any other blade Jack owned it was sharp enough to slit someone’s throat like butter. A thrill shot up Mac’s breastbone, and for a moment he was confused because it wasn’t fear—he could never be afraid of Jack. It happened again a second later, and ohno, it was theotherkind of thrill, the kind he really didn’t want Jack to know about.





	unapologetic with you tonight (nothing to hide)

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: this fic has zero redeeming qualities whatsoever. It's 3400 words of porn with a little framing to make me and [blackrose1002](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose1002/pseuds/blackrose1002) feel better about ourselves. I pitched the shaving kink idea to Kaja and somehow we wound up co-writing this beast in DMs over the course of a day. It would not be nearly as good as it is without her, she's fantastic and I'm so happy to have her as my friend. I put this together to post it, so any remaining mistakes are my fault, and um... if you're waiting for the last chapter of _i think i'm gonna burn in hell (everybody burn the house right down)_ (AKA "demons" if you follow me on Tumblr), I promise it's coming! This just kind of... ate my life. Enjoy?
> 
> Title is from "Unapologetic" by Halestorm because I love them and I needed a title that wasn't morbid - a lot of songs about razors are!

Angus MacGyver didn’t spend much time worrying about his appearance. He didn’t like to keep his hair too short (the cut he’d had in the army was the limit) or too long (it got chopped if he had to shake his head like a dog to clear his vision). While he preferred comfortable clothes with the option for layers, there was only one thing related to his personal grooming on which he had a strong opinion.

He _hated_ having a beard. Yeah, he had one while he was in Nigeria, but razors weren’t exactly plentiful and shaving with a knife looked cool on TV, but in real life it was a great way to fillet your skin off. Since he came back he’d made it a point to keep his face smooth, until he needed to grow a beard to look older for a mission.

A mission with one Jack Dalton, who seemed to love nothing more than ribbing Mac _constantly_ about the scratchy dark blond mange he was growing on his face. Every beard-related nickname, joke, and pun got pulled out of Jack’s head through his mouth over the course of two weeks. It went from being funny to aggravating to not funny, and then it went so long without being funny that it somehow started being funny again. By the time the mission was over and Jack pulled his car into Mac’s driveway, they were both tired and a little beat up from wrestling some very angry Armenians into custody.

“You don’t need to drive all the way back to your place, man,” Mac pointed out as he popped his door. “Just crash here. Bozer moved out, remember? You can even have a bed to sleep in instead of the couch.”

“Thanks a lot, Moses,” Jack said, earning an annoyed snort from Mac as they made their way from the car to the house with their bags. They both kicked off their boots and left their socks behind to be handled with proper nuclear waste disposal procedures at a later time. “You know, I’ve got my straight razor with me—I could get that hairy monster off your face in about two minutes if you want.”

“ _Yes_ , please,” Mac half-groaned, leading the way to the bathroom attached to his bedroom and tossing his stuff somewhere where he hopefully wouldn’t trip on it later. “I can’t take it any longer, I don’t know how you do this all the time.” Not only did Jack have a beard at the moment, but it looked fantastic on him—although Mac and his non-platonic feelings for his partner might’ve been biased.

“Well, those of us with skin that’s rough like a bull’s ass don’t chafe ourselves,” Jack said, trailing Mac into the bathroom and narrowly dodging out of the way when Mac took off his t-shirt and threw it in the direction of the doorway. Nobody wanted to get hair all over their clothes when they were shaving. “Hey, watch your aim!”

“Bite me,” Mac snarked, hopping up to sit on the edge of the bathroom vanity, which was an oversized wooden cabinet with a granite countertop and sink. His hair was in his face and when he raked it out of the way he noticed Jack was staring at him… because he was shirtless? No, that couldn’t be right—they’d seen each other naked countless times. “You okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course,” Jack said, but there was something off about the words, like he’d had to force them out. He stepped in closer and pulled the straight razor out of his back pocket. It was an antique thing, with real ivory handles, passed down to Jack from his old man; he’d told Mac the story about it one time when they were drunk off their asses in Cancun (that trip wasn’t as fun as it sounded). “Tilt your head up a little.”

Mac’s eyes flicked to the blade, glinting under the bathroom lights, and he knew like any other blade Jack owned it was sharp enough to slit someone’s throat like butter. A thrill shot up Mac’s breastbone, and for a moment he was confused because it wasn’t fear—he could never be afraid of Jack. It happened again a second later, and oh _no_ , it was the _other_ kind of thrill, the kind he really didn’t want Jack to know about.

He was _so_ fucked—and now Mac realized he had to spread his legs to accommodate Jack being close enough to reach him with the razor. He didn’t have much of a choice now, since Jack’s belt buckle was touching Mac’s knees. He moved them apart and Jack stepped into the vacated space, putting a gentle hand under Mac’s chin and turning it to one side to get a clear view of his face.

The first stroke of the blade was… an experience. The kind that made it feel like a thousand little fingers were tickling up Mac’s spine, all the way to the base of his brain, and since all that sensation had nowhere else to go it shot back down his body to his dick. By the third stroke, Mac decided his priority was surviving this ordeal without letting Jack know the effect it had on him. He tried hard to concentrate on breathing in and out through his nose and hoping like hell he didn’t look as tense as he felt.

It seemed to take too long and not long enough for Jack to make his way across Mac’s face, freeing him from his fuzzy prison and going back to clean up anything he missed. By now Mac was about ready to jump out of his skin; when Jack grabbed his chin to do one last spot check, the blade whispered against Mac’s bare skin and he lost whatever control he had left, squirming and flinching away.

Jack pulled the razor back immediately. “Hey, what’s with the jumpin’? Did I cut you?” he asked, looking for blood.

Which meant leaning closer, _pressing_ closer, and Mac was hit by a wave of panic because the last thing he wanted was for Jack to feel what he and the razor were doing to him. In his rush to get away, Mac slid down off the vanity, which was a spectacularly bad idea since it jammed them together from the waist down. His eyes slammed shut, face heating up with embarrassment and shame and every other self-deprecating emotion in the book. He heard the razor snap shut and get set on the countertop and tried to shimmy out from between Jack and the cabinet—but Jack’s hands on his upper arms stopped him in his tracks.

In a low, gravelly tone Mac had never heard before, Jack said, “Mac, look at me.”

Not able to see a way where this scenario ended without him getting let down gently or punched in the face, Mac tried to shift away again. Jack—stubborn bastard that he was—just tugged him back to center, and the motion was enough to make Mac glance up at him. He found Jack looking at him not with disgust or pity but so much intensity in his dark eyes that it took Mac’s breath away.

“Now, where do you think you’re going?” Jack asked, and it was enough to make Mac shiver in his hold.

He also discovered he wasn’t the only one half-hard in their jeans, but that didn’t mean there were any feelings involved. Could’ve just been a biological response to proximity and friction. “Jack, I… you don’t want this,” he said, voice cracking a little. “Not the way I do, anyway.”

“And what makes you so sure about that?” Deliberately, Jack pressed their hips together, effectively pinning Mac’s to the side of the vanity. One hand stayed on Mac’s bicep, the other sliding up to the side of his neck, a thumb rubbing absently at the birthmark near the hinge of his jaw.

Mac wasn’t always the best at reading people and he was the first to admit it, but even if he didn’t know Jack as well as he did he’d be able to interpret the signals he was giving off just fine. So before he could talk himself out of it, Mac dove forward and pressed their mouths together in a way that he hoped conveyed desire and affection in equal measure. Jack groaned against his lips, returning the kiss instantly and passionately, practically shoving his tongue down Mac’s throat in his haste to get closer.

Mac was on board with _closer_ , hands lifting to grip Jack’s shoulders while they devoured each other’s mouths, a gasp escaping Mac when Jack’s hand moved from his arm to his back, splaying flat against his spine. Jack’s thigh nudged between Mac’s legs, causing his hips to twitch involuntarily, hands slipping from Jack’s shoulders in favor of wrapping his arms around his neck while Jack sucked on his tongue. He couldn’t help the mewling sound he made when the hand on his back slid lower to grope his ass.

Jack broke the kiss first, mouthing at Mac’s jaw before attaching his lips to his neck, nipping and sucking his way down to Mac’s collarbone. He wasn’t exactly being gentle and Mac loved that, another moan escaping him when Jack bit him harder, thrusting against his hip at the same time. With pressure like that against his cock Mac knew he could get off like this, but there was a part of him that was afraid he was only going to get to experience this—experience _Jack_ like this—once, and if that was the case he wanted as much as he could get.

Even though it was ridiculously hard to concentrate with his partner sucking a dark bruise into the skin over his collarbone, Mac forced his hands to move, pulling at the hem of Jack’s t-shirt. Jack got the message and pulled away, Mac instantly missing his lips on his body, but then Jack yanked his shirt over his head and crashed their mouths together again, the sudden skin-on-skin contact enough to drive Mac insane. His hand slid around Jack’s waist to clutch at his back, every nerve in Mac’s body burning like it was on fire. He bit down on Jack’s lower lip at the same time Jack put one hand back on his ass, the other moving up into Mac’s hair, cupping the back of his skull. His fingers threaded through the strands and tugged hard enough to make Mac’s hips jump.

Jack kissed his way back down Mac’s neck to work on the opposite side, tugging at his hair again and smirking against his skin at the high-pitched sound Mac made, groaning himself when Mac clawed at his back in retaliation. The hand on Mac’s ass moved to his belt, and Mac had to lock his knees so they didn’t give out on him; he’d dreamt about this countless times (despite his best efforts not to, he eventually sort of accepted he was going to have lewd dreams about Jack), but his imagination was nothing compared to the real thing.

Panting for breath, Mac brought both his hands to Jack’s belt and got it undone, Jack getting rid of his a second later. Soon they were both kicking off their pants and underwear, and Mac was grateful they’d taken off their boots at the door. As soon as they were undressed Jack’s hand was back on Mac’s ass and they were kissing again, something close to a growl escaping Jack when Mac thrusted against him.

And Mac needed more, and soon, or he thought he might die. He pulled back far enough to speak, a plan that was momentarily derailed when Jack chased his lips and ravaged his mouth again. “Jack, I want you to—I need—” He broke off, words frustrating him, so he decided to use actions instead.

He moved back even further and turned around, bending at the waist to lay down on the countertop, ass in the air, hoping Jack would get the idea. Evidently he didn’t have to worry about that, because Jack stepped closer, pressing himself against Mac’s ass, a hand slowly running up Mac’s back before trailing down to his crack.

Before Mac could tell him where the lube was, Jack was jerking open the top drawer in the vanity and pulling out the little bottle. The sound of the cap opening made Mac jump, and the feeling of that first finger pushing inside him had him gasping for air, the sound turning to a moan when Jack started moving his finger back and forth, slowly stretching him out, his other hand flat against the middle of Mac’s back. When Jack added a second finger Mac couldn’t help but whimper, pushing back against him impatiently.

Jack spoke for the first time in a while, and he sounded absolutely wrecked: “Jesus Christ, Mac—look at you, spread out for me like a goddamn buffet.”

Two fingers became three and Mac couldn’t formulate a response, the stretch of those digits burning in the best possible way. “Jack, please, please,” he begged, unable to wait any longer. “Just fuck me already.”

Jack removed his fingers and hunted up more lube before asking, “Condoms? I’m clean, man, but—”

“Me too,” Mac said, because he trusted Jack at his word and knew that trust was reciprocated. “Please.”

Mac felt more than saw Jack line himself up, and he started pushing inside. Peripherally Mac was aware of a long, low sound coming out of Jack’s throat, but he was busy gripping the countertop so hard he thought it might crack underneath him, his other arm cushioning his head so he didn’t accidentally give himself a concussion. The feeling of Jack’s cock getting buried inside him was so overwhelming he was afraid he might faint, sparks dancing up his spine.

Once Jack bottomed out he gave them a second to breathe, but then Mac let out another whine, so Jack gripped his hips tightly and pulled out almost entirely before slamming back inside, thrusting hard and fast from the jump. Mac started making these gut-punched sounds, moving the arm under his head enough to claw at the wall with his fingers; the next thing he knew, he felt Jack grab the hand he had holding the edge of the counter.

He pulled Mac’s arm behind his body, pinning his wrist to his lower back as he kept thrusting, now at a slightly upward angle. The hold wasn’t hard enough to be painful and Mac could’ve broken it if he wanted to, but it was restrictive and that turned him on. He let out a strangled shout whenever Jack hit his prostate at that brutal pace, and this was exactly what Mac didn’t know he’d needed, bringing the fingers he had clawing at the wall up to rake his hair out of his face… which apparently gave Jack an idea.

“You keep that arm where I put it,” Jack all but snarled in his ear, before releasing Mac’s wrist in favor of sliding his hand up Mac’s back, into his hair. And then he tugged, tipping Mac’s head backward with a firm grip.

The noise that came out of Mac’s mouth didn’t sound human, and of course he left his arm exactly where it was, submitting to the relentless snap of Jack’s hips. All it took was one particularly hard thrust to grind against Mac’s prostate combined with Jack yanking his hair hard enough that he felt in his scalp for Mac to orgasm harder than he had in his whole life. His body spasmed, a choked moan of Jack’s name falling from his lips as he painted the vanity with his come.

Jack’s hand moved from Mac’s hair to grip his shoulder and keep him in place as he pounded into him a few more times, his come filling Mac up, Jack’s hips moving erratically a few more times before finally stilling. Mac was gulping in air, his whole body trembling slightly underneath Jack, both of them sticky with sweat. He could feel come leaking out from around Jack’s cock, and bone-deep terror shot through him—what if this ruined them? What if all Jack wanted was sex?

Above him, Jack took a few deep breaths before slowly pulling out, rubbing Mac’s side when an involuntary hiss escaped Mac’s mouth. Then he was wrapping an arm around Mac’s waist and pulling him up, turning him around in his arms so they were facing each other, and Mac couldn’t hide the tears welling in his eyes.

“Darlin’, what’s wrong?” Jack asked, hands coming up to frame Mac’s face. His own eyes widened. “Did I hurt you?”

Mac couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat so he shook his head, not wanting Jack to worry. He cursed himself internally for not being able to keep his emotions in check when he couldn’t keep the tears from trailing down his face. Jack’s thumbs wiped them away almost instantaneously, which only sort of made Mac want to cry more.

“Then what…?” Jack trailed off, clearly thinking. “Oh, sweetheart no—did you think this was just sex?” Another pause. “Unless that’s what… is that what _you_ want?”

“No, no,” Mac replied, his voice small. “You’re… you’re everything to me, and I… I don’t want to lose you over this, I _can’t_ lose you over this.”

“Hey, you’re not gonna lose me,” Jack said, tucking a stray piece of Mac’s hair behind his ear. “I love you, Mac—I have for a long damn time. So unless you tell me to go, there’s no way you’re getting rid of me.”

Mac stared at him for a moment, disbelieving, his mind trying and failing to wrap itself around the concept… but he also couldn’t stand the look on Jack’s face, the half-shuttered one that said he expected Mac to tell him to fuck off. He gave Jack his best watery smile and wrapped his arms around his neck. “I love you too.”

All this tension in Jack’s body seemed to drain out under Mac’s touch, and he returned the hug. “God, kid, you just about gave me a heart attack—maybe go easier on the dramatic pause next time?” He pressed a kiss to the side of Mac’s head, not far from where he was pulling his hair a few minutes earlier. “I think we need to talk about something, though: since when are you such a kinky bastard?”

Mac let out a surprised laugh against Jack’s shoulder before pulling back to look at him, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “What?”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Uh, well, there’s the shaving thing to start with, not to mention wanting me to bend you over a sink and almost rip out half your hair.”

Mac blushed harder, which only made Jack laugh. “To be fair, I didn’t even know about the shaving thing before today…” He trailed off, wondering if Jack had noticed how much he liked being held down too.

“Mhmm, sure, hoss,” Jack said, and then he dropped down enough to wrap an arm around Mac’s thighs, hoisting him in the air with a surprised yelp. It left Mac no choice but to cling to Jack like a monkey while he carried him to the bed and dropped him on it before asking in a teasing voice, “Anything else I should know about?”

Mac threw his arms up in defeat. “Fine, you can add strength kink to the list,” he admitted, staring at the ceiling and wondering at the fact that earlier he was pining after what he thought was his straight partner and now they were discussing Mac’s kinks like they were making a grocery list—what the fuck was his life? “But I’m guessing you kind of figured that one out already.”

“I had a feeling,” Jack said, crawling on to the bed beside Mac and flopping an arm across his chest, leaning in to kiss his shoulder. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that after all that I’m still allowed to sleep over?”

Mac turned his head to look at him with a huge smile on his face. “Of course you are. And I’ll even share my bed with you.”

Jack’s tone was wry, but the smile on his face was soft and warm: “Wow, how generous of you.” He leaned in for a kiss, and warned against Mac’s mouth, “You keep making offers like that and we’re never gonna leave this bed, darlin’.”

Mac chuckled, grabbing the arm Jack had across his chest and tugging while shifting around until Jack was lying on top of him. He arched an eyebrow and asked, “Would that really be such a bad thing?”

Another kiss was Jack’s response, and that was that.


End file.
